The city had no name anymore.

   It used to. Jack remembered it vaguely—billboards, neon, the hum of trains overhead. Now it was just a carcass of steel and ash, its bones jutting skyward like the ribs of some long-dead beast. 

   Fires burned in the distance, casting a dull orange glow through the smoke-choked sky. The sun, a dying ember, sagged low on the horizon.

   Jack adjusted the strap on his shoulder, the weight of the rifle digging into his collarbone. Beside him, Maisy trudged through the rubble, her small hand gripping his. She was twelve, but the war had aged her. Her eyes were too still, too knowing. She hadn’t cried in weeks and her hair was long and frizzy and she scratched at it. 

   They moved through the ruins of what had once been a shopping district. Mannequins lay shattered in the dust, their plastic limbs twisted like corpses. A drone buzzed overhead, its red eye scanning. Jack pulled Maisy into a collapsed storefront, pressing her against the wall, finger to lips. The drone passed, oblivious.

   “ Are we close? ” she whispered.

   Jack nodded, “ Pier 9. Just past the old stadium.”

  Maisy looked up at him, “ You are coming with me, aren't you, Daddy? ”

   He didn’t answer.

   They moved again, weaving through the skeletal remains of buildings. The city was a warzone, but not in the way warzones used to be. 

   There were no sides anymore. Just factions—splinters of the old world, each clinging to their own madness. The Ash Dogs, the Red Choir, the Bone Syndicate. Jack had fought for all of them at one point. Now he fought for only one thing.

   Maisy.

   They reached the stadium by dusk. It loomed like a cratered moon, its roof collapsed, its seats a mosaic of rust and blood. 

   Jack led her through the underbelly, past the locker rooms where the Red Choir had once executed prisoners. The walls still bore the stains.

   Maisy didn’t flinch. She’d seen worse.

   At the far end, they emerged into the open. The harbor stretched before them, black and slick as oil. And there—Pier 9. The ship was there. A freighter, old and patched, but seaworthy. Its engines rumbled low, impatient. A line of refugees snaked toward it, watched over by armed guards in matte-gray armor.

   Jack crouched behind a burned-out car, scanning the pier, “ We’ll wait for the last call, ” he said. “ Too many eyes right now. ”

   Maisy nodded, but her gaze lingered on the ship, “ That’s the one? ”

   “ That’s the one sweetheart. ”

  He didn’t tell her what it cost. The favors. The blood. The codes he’d stolen, the men he’d betrayed. He didn’t tell her about the price on his head, or the bounty the Bone Syndicate had placed on him. He didn’t tell her that he’d traded his own passage for hers.

   He just watched her face, memorizing it. The way her hair curled at the ends. The scar on her cheek from the shrapnel last winter. The way she held herself—like a soldier, like him, and he wished he could see her mother in her, but he couldn't. 

   His throat was hurting, holding in a whine like that of a dying animal.

   A crack echoed through the air.

   Jack spun, gun raised. A figure staggered into view—Ash Dog colors, bleeding from the gut. He collapsed, gurgling. 

   Behind him, more came. Not Ash Dogs. Bone Syndicate. Jack recognized the leader—Krell, the one-eyed butcher. They’d fought together once, before Jack had gone rogue.

   Krell saw him. Grinned.

  “ Jack! ” he called. “ You’re a hard man to find, Jacky boy! ”

   Jack didn’t answer. He fired.

  The first shot took down the man beside Krell. Chaos erupted. Bullets tore through the air. 

   Jack grabbed Maisy and ran, weaving through the wreckage, returning fire. They ducked into a maintenance tunnel, the walls echoing with gunfire.

   “ They’re here for me, ” Jack said, breath ragged. “ Keep moving. ”

   They emerged near the pier’s edge. The line was gone. The last of the refugees were boarding. The guards were raising the ramp.

   “ No,” Jack growled. “ Not yet. ”

   He fired into the air, “ Wait! One more! ”

   The guards turned. Guns raised. Then one of them recognized him and nodded, but they weren't waiting for long. 

  Jack knelt before Maisy, “ Go. Don't look back. I love you. ”

   She stared at him, her eyes going moist, lip quivering, “ You’re coming too. ”

   “ I can’t. ”

   “ Why not? ”

   “ They’ll never stop hunting me. If I’m on that ship, they’ll shoot it out of the water. You're better off without me. I love you so much. ”

   Tears welled in her eyes, “ I don’t care. ”

  “ I do. ” He cupped her face, “ You’re the only thing I’ve done right. You’re the only thing that matters. ”

   A bullet ricocheted nearby. Krell’s men were closing in.

  Jack shoved the pack into her arms,   “ Everything you need is in there. The ID chip. The passcode. Food, water. You’ll make it. You're a tough kid. You're my girl. Now go! Please! "

  She clung to him, “ Don't say please, Daddy! Not like that. ”

   He kissed her forehead, “ Go. Live for me. For us. ”

   She ran for the ship as hard as she could, leaping for it, grabbed the railing and the guards pulled her onboard.

   " You're one brave kid, " she was told.

   Jack turned, rifle raised. He took cover behind a crate, firing in bursts.

   Krell’s men advanced, methodical.   

   Jack took two down before rounds caught his leg and chest. He fell, gritting his teeth, dragging himself behind a forklift.

   The ship’s engines roared louder.

   Krell approached, shotgun in hand,  “ You always were a stubborn bastard. ”

   Jack smiled, blood in his teeth, “ Still am. ”

  He pulled the pin on a grenade. Krell’s eyes widened, knowing he was done for.

   The explosion lit the pier in white fire.

  From the deck of the freighter, Maisy watched the flames bloom. She didn’t cry. She stood at the railing, wind in her hair, the city shrinking behind her. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the ruins in silhouette.

  She reached into the pack. Inside was a photo—her as a baby, Jack, and a woman she knew was her mother, but couldn't remember her. 

   Before the war took hold. Before everything.

   She held it close.

   The ship sailed on, into the dark, and onto freedom.